Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/283

Rh And shriek its rage at me from every side; Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air: Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms, No weapon wielded by the hand of man, Could force from me a single word of pain. Alcmena: No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son; But thy long years of work, thy constant toils, Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred. Hercules: Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be? Does any evil still upon the earth Exist, with me alive? But let it come. Let someone quickly bring my bow to me— But no: my naked hands will be enough. Now bid the monster come. Alcmena: Alas, his pains, Too great, have reft his senses quite away. Remove his weapons, take those deadly shafts Out of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I, A helpless, agéd woman hide myself? That grief of his has changed to maddened rage, And that alone is master of him now. Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am, Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave hand Alcmena has deserved to meet her death. So let me perish even impiously, Before some craven soul command my death, Or some base creature triumph over me. But sec, outworn by woe, his weary heart Is in the soothing bonds of slumber bound; His panting chest with labored breathing heaves. Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me Have willed to take my glorious son, at least Spare to the world, I pray, its champion. Let all his pains depart, and once again Let great Alcides' frame renew its strength. [Enter Hyllus.]